


Vestiges

by falafelfiction



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 08:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falafelfiction/pseuds/falafelfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for the Blue Christmeth challenge for the prompt <i> "Anything set in early S4, with tensions and emotions still high in the aftermath of Gale's murder." </i> Missing scene set during 'Box Cutter'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vestiges

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mythopoeia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythopoeia/gifts).



> Hugh thanks to my beta soon to be revealed.

Walt knew he would only feel better again once the lab was clean.  

They hadn’t cooked a thing. The whole morning had been lost in the long gruesome chore of cleaning up Victor, making sure that his blood didn’t contaminate their next batch. Walt had always hated messy explosions in good sanitary science labs. He had always mourned over failed experiments and the putrefying matter they tended to leave behind. Walt still had very lucid memories of Emilio’s dissolving body bursting through Jesse’s ceiling and the hours that they had spent scrubbing him off the hall floor.

Theoretically Walt knew that there was only about 5.6 litres of blood in the average human body. But it always seemed like so much more when that blood was spilled, when it spread...when it went _everywhere_.

When Walt and Jesse were done with the mopping, they took off their raincoats and rubber gloves, heaping them in an empty crate. Mike eyed them critically, frowning at the blood spatters that had sprayed over them from Victor’s torn throat.

“Strip your clothes off too,” Mike ordered. “I want everything in this crate, save only for your piss-stained underwear. It’ll all need to be destroyed.” 

“So you want us leaving here in nothing but our skin?” said Walt.

Mike narrowed his eyes and Walt knew that the careworn hitman couldn’t stand the idea of either of them leaving the super lab in anything other than barrels of acid.

“I’m off to pick up some new clothes,” said Mike, heading for the stairs. “I’ll be back shortly, Walter. See if you two can stay out of trouble till then.”

Walt bristled at Mike’s tone. The old man spoke to them as if he was dealing with a pair of insolent school boys. Mike should realize by now that he couldn’t belittle Walt so easily. But still he didn’t even spare them a second glance before he shut the door. Mike had confiscated Walt’s lab keys from him earlier that evening and sure enough Walt heard those keys turning in the lock. So was this the new arrangement then? Were they slave cooks now, imprisoned underground until Gus could replace them?

No, no...Mike was getting them clothes and he was going to let them leave. Walt had already explained to Mike that Victor had forced him to abandon his car in Skyler’s driveway and she was likely to panic if he didn’t return for it soon. They couldn’t control and then dispose of Walt as easily as they had thought. And that was on _them_.     

Walt turned his attention to Jesse. His young partner had already wandered over to the sink where he was splashing water over his neck, rinsing the last of the blood from his skin. Once this was done, Jesse slouched towards the forklift and the barrel of liquid red mist that had been Victor only a few hours earlier. Jesse stared vacantly at this frothy Victor soup as he pulled his t-shirt up over his head, tugged off his sneakers and then finally yanked down his jeans. Under his clothes, Jesse’s body was pale and scrawny as a featherless baby bird. Walt didn’t see Jesse undressed very often. His body was usually buried in those layers of too-big clothes. Walt didn’t like to stare. He usually wouldn’t be _able_ to stare without Jesse making some juvenile homophobic rebuke. But Walt continued to stare at Jesse expectantly and the boy remained silent. The waiting was making Walt nervous now...  

The reaction had to come soon, of course. As with any unstable element Walt knew to expect volatile reactions from Jesse. He was bracing himself for the tears, the panic and hysteria. They had come on so much faster that time when Walt and Jesse had been fleeing from Tuco’s hideout in the desert. Jesse had screamed and sobbed when Walt had insisted that they needed to bury the gun. He remembered Jesse refusing to hand over the weapon at first and how he had raged that the whole thing would never have happened if Walt hadn’t taken his first gun away from him. And naturally Walt had told Jesse how irrational he was being...

_Jesse listen... you can’t seriously believe that you would have won a gun fight with Tuco?_

At which point Jesse had indignantly reminded Walt that he just _had_ won a gun fight with Tuco.  

Walt couldn’t deny that the boy came through for him in a crisis. That day with Tuco had been the first time that Jesse had shot a man (albeit not fatally) to save both their lives. Jesse, who only days earlier, hadn’t known how to open a gun chamber. Jesse had only done what was necessary for their survival, of course. But Walt could see that it had shaken him; that such violence didn’t come naturally to him. Walt wanted to assure Jesse that their current situation wasn’t any different and Jesse pulling the trigger this time had also been a purely defensive act. But Walt knew it would be a tough sell. Gale was no Tuco.    

Jesse carried his clothes over to the crate, but he hesitated before dropping in his jeans. Walt’s stomach clenched as Jesse’s hand slipped into his pocket, removing a tiny plastic bag. The sparkle of blue crystal caught the light as Jesse took the meth to one of the tables, poured it onto the silver surface and began crushing it with a pestle.

“ _Don’t_!” Walt blurted. “Jesse, that’s not going to help...”

Jesse’s head jerked up as Walt approached the table. His eyes warned Walt not to come any closer or he might just bite him. Walt froze in his tracks and once Jesse seemed satisfied that he would keep his distance, he lowered his head to the powdered meth, sucking that blue dust up his nostrils in two swift snorts. While Jesse’s head was down Walt snatched up the plastic bag and threw it on the heap of clothes. There was little point. There was hardly any meth left inside. Walt’s heart sank as he realised this wasn’t the first time Jesse had broken his sobriety in recent days. He sighed and began unbuttoning his own shirt.

 _You saved my life_ , Walt thought but did not say aloud. _You’ve saved us both and I knew I could trust you and I’m sorry you had to do it. I would have done it myself if I could. I’m sorry for all of this. But what matters is we’re alive. And now I just..._

 _...I want you to go back to being Jesse again_.      

All these thoughts buzzed around Walt’s head but he didn’t say another word. They returned to their stools, sitting in their underwear, stripped to their skin like two convicts waiting to be showered and deloused. They sat there like that in agonizing silence until Mike came back with their new clothes and returned their keys and wallets. 

“Either of you so much as think about going to the cops...” Mike warned them as they pulled on their identical Kenny Rogers t-shirts, “...just know that the boss has got connections that’ll reach you anywhere the feds might try to hide you.”

Walt shrugged innocently. “Why would we go to the cops, Mike? We just got our jobs back, didn’t we? Well, assuming that Gus still intends to pay us that is...”

“Pay you?” Mike shook his head. “Oh, I hope you’ll get your pay day soon enough, Walter. I’m sure the boss will see you get your due before long. For now you’ll have to be satisfied with the luxury of breathing in oxygen. Because despite all the trouble you’ve caused there’s only one person that’s been killed in all this and he was _my guy_!”

Walt didn’t miss the sharp note of grief in Mike’s voice. It seemed like he might have cared for Victor more than he had let on. But why should Walt concern himself over Mike losing his young partner when he’d spent the last few days trying to hunt down and murder _Walt’s_ young partner. Walt would even be tempted to call this karma if he believed in such things.

He was about to say as much when a voice spoke up beside them.

“That’s not true,” Jesse muttered. “That’s _bullshit._ ”

Mike blinked at him. “Oh, you got something to say all of a sudden?”

Jesse raised his head, his eyes still cold and brazen.

“There was more than _one_ person killed in all this,” he said.  

Mike held his stare. He seemed taken aback and even a little humbled, Walt fancied. Yes, of course Mike had already moved on from any thoughts of poor Gale. The meth cooks in this operation were all just cogs in the machine to them. Still, Walt had no time to mourn for Gale either. It appeared the only person who still cared about the man’s death was his murderer.

“I like it better when you don’t talk,” Mike told Jesse with a sigh.

Mike glanced once more at the barrel dangling from the forklift filled with the cooling acidic blood. His face crumpled and he squeezed his eyes closed.

“Get out of my sight, both of you...” he growled.  

“But we haven’t cooked anything,” Walt reminded him. “Gus said to get back to work, didn’t he? Well, we’re going to be a whole day behind schedule if we...”

“And that’s why tomorrow you’ll be coming in for a long day shift followed by a long night shift,” said Mike. “So go rest up and pack an extra lunch box.” 

Walt nodded, relieved he had the opportunity to straighten things out with Skyler. Walt and Jesse left Mike alone with what remained of the _cleaning_. Jesse’s car was parked outside the laundry. Walt halted him as he went to open the driver’s door. 

“Perhaps I ought to drive?” Walt suggested.

After barely surviving the night, Walt had no intention of dying in a fiery car crash by letting Jesse behind the wheel when he was high on their product. 

Jesse shrugged. “Whatever, man.”

They drove back into town in silence and Walt was still waiting. If Jesse was too shocked or exhausted for tears, then he should at least be asking questions by now. When would Walt hear those familiar words... _what’s the plan, Mr White?_ Walt didn’t have even the beginnings of a plan at the moment. But in the past, Jesse’s needy dependency on him to get them out of life threatening predicaments had always been a good motivator. Jesse would blurt out all his fears and his stupid suggestions and it would help Walt to formulate a rational solution. It was a routine Walt took comfort in. Jesse would panic and despair so that he didn’t have to. After the night they’d had, Walt needed some sense of normalcy.  

“Shall I just drive you back to your house then?” said Walt, breaking the silence between them. “I suppose I can call a cab to collect me from there...” 

“Whatever,” Jesse said again. “Yeah, I should probably crash. Can’t even remember the last time I slept. _Ugh_...can’t think of the last time I ate either.” 

Walt had noticed the low rumbling noises coming from somewhere in the region of Jesse’s concave stomach. After seeing Victor slaughtered right in front of them Walt didn’t think he would recover his appetite for a week, but still...Jesse looked like he was suffering with malnutrition at the best of times. Walt noticed that they were approaching the Denny’s on the left side of Central Avenue. And suddenly he was remembering that day when they had been driving the RV back into Albuquerque after almost dying of thirst in the desert heat. He remembered how Jesse had asked if they could still stop at a Denny’s before going home and how disappointed Jesse had been when Walt had said it was more important that he got back to the airport on time. Jesse had sulked in the passenger seat as if Walt were a parent who had broken a promise to him.

Well, Walt supposed there was time for Denny’s now.

“You want to get some breakfast?” Walt asked.

Jesse perked up and even grinned as he saw the yellow sign.

“Hell yeah, I could totally go for a Grand Slam!”

Walt nodded and pulled into the parking lot. He wanted to do something for Jesse though he was a little disturbed at just how easily he could cheer the boy up after putting him through his first murder. Walt winced as they entered the restaurant, already noting the perplexed looks that their absurd matching outfits were drawing from other diners. 

“Order what you want,” said Walt as they slid into a cubicle. “It’s on me.”

“Well, I should think so,” said Jesse. “I killed a dude for you.”

Walt flinched, his blood running cold. Jesse hadn’t even bothered to say it quietly _._ But due to the casual tone of Jesse’s voice these incriminating words didn’t seem to have registered with anyone sitting within earshot, nor with the sleepy looking waitress who was approaching their table. Jesse announced just as loudly that he was _‘gonna take a shit’_ and left Walt to order his breakfast. For himself Walt only asked for a black coffee which he knew wouldn’t taste even half as good as Gale’s special brew. Coffee was the only thing Walt could stomach right now and he needed the caffeine. Walt also ordered Jesse an orange juice with ice as he really didn’t need any further neurological stimulants in his system.

Walt glanced over at the toilet doors on the other side of the restaurant. He wondered if Jesse would start crying once he had shut himself away inside one of the stalls. Walt was hoping that Jesse would at least break down a little behind closed doors; that he might return to their table with bloodshot eyes, wet and needy. Then maybe he would finally ask Walt what their next move would be.        

 _I’ve killed for you too_ , Walt thought as he sat waiting. _Those two guys I hit with my car, Emilio and Krazy 8 and even...even Jane in a way. If I had the choice, I’d do all it again. Same choice every time. I’ll kill Gus for us too if that’s what it takes..._

Walt nodded to himself. Killing Gus was the next move, of course.

This new task would be exceedingly difficult, but it wasn’t as though Walt was afraid of a challenge especially if he still had Jesse to assist him. Walt could do this. He had done it before. He had found those formulas needed to defeat his enemies, from phosphine gas to fulminated mercury. Like all his other experiments in murder, Walt imagined that this one was going to get messy. But he could already see it all happening in his mind’s eye...another colourful explosion in some fateful future lab.   

 

 The End


End file.
